I know some of you are not runners or bikers or swimmers, but those who are understand the title of this week’s e-mail. There are days when you go out to run, swim, or bike, you feel really good, and you feel like you could go forever. Movement is effortless and you get lost in the euphoria of your commune with nature. OK. Maybe that’s laying it on a little thick, but you get my meaning. There are other days when you go out and you feel like you have lead weights tied around your ankles and you don’t know if you can make it around the block.

All winter I was having those lead weights around the ankles days. Maybe it was because I had a season off from racing with the UC problems. Maybe it was my attitude because I had turned 59 and the “BIG SIX OH” was just around the corner. My last week’s e-mail described my Sunday run as one of those bad days.

Whatever the reason, lately my training runs, bikes and swims have been more good days than bad. It’s obvious that a good part of the reason is that I feel like I’m in nearly the best shape of my life, which at 59, tells a sad story about my conditioning through the years. My weight isn’t exactly where I feel it should be but it’s working its way there slowly and not having to carry those extra pounds up the hills has to be a factor. I’ve talked about nutrition and that seems to be coming around although I did have a slight overexposure to fermented grains on Friday night. Just kidding Mom!

I’m convinced that much of it is attitude. After taking a season off from being able to compete and, more importantly, train with friends, I knew that not training isn’t the life style I wanted. Being back into it all is where I’d rather be. I’m still not fast…never have been…never will be and that’s OK. When I was in my twenties, thirties and even forties, I never grasped the thought that someday the ability to choose to run or not to run would end. But as time goes on I realize that this won’t last forever no matter how much I try.

Before you think I’ve dropped into that old age funk and I worry that death is just around the corner, that’s not what I’m talking about. I look around and see people my age…some friends…some acquaintances…some strangers and I see a lot who don’t exercise at all and for many of them it’s because they can’t. Whether it’s knees, hips, ankles, heart or other maladies, the body wears out.

It reminds me of the old junior high joke (middle school joke to you youngsters) about the young man who was caught “pleasuring himself”. His father say’s “Don’t you know that will make you go blind?” The boys thinks for a minute and says “I guess I’ll just keep going until I need glasses”.

So I guess I’ll just keep going until I just can’t run any more, but I’ll probably still be able to bike and swim. If I fall off the bike many more times, that may end the riding career, but it’s harder to get hurt swimming. At that point I’ll team up with a biker who can’t run any more and a runner who can’t swim and do the tri circuit on a geezer relay team.

Today’s run was one of those effortless days. I felt good from the start and tried to work on a consistent pace. If I’m nothing else I am consistent. Every time I looked down at my Garmin (GPS) it said my pace was 9:04, 9:07, 9:08 and so on. I’m sure I was a little slower on the uphills and a little faster on the downhills but pretty consistent. When I was all done I had gone 8.59 miles and my average pace was 9:06. For most of you that was slow, but for me it was faster than my average pace from the last couple of years and, as I said, most importantly it was consistent.

My plan in races is to not go out on the run at a fast pace, burn out early, and walk half the run. I don’t care if everyone is passing me…I want to run the last mile at the same pace as the first mile and not be “on the edge of puke” at the finish line. The hard part is finding that “best pace” so you don’t leave anything out on the course and kick yourself later for not being the best you could be.

Jean’s healing is progressing nicely. I’ve learned to stay away from her when she’s at the lake aqua-jogging while we’re swimming. She’s bored enough that when you go by her, she starts talking. The other day I tried to ignore her and did as I swam toward the store but felt guilty and stopped a listened to her on the way back. At least she’s doing what she can and not overdoing what she shouldn’t…so far!!

Just (Feeling Better Than I Look) Jack

 We had planned to spend this weekend in the U.P. with friends celebrating Jack and Mariam Sorby’s 50th Anniversary. They live in Iron River in the Western U.P. and we had reservations at Ski Brule, a (duh) ski resort. The area around the resort is hilly which would have made for an excellent bike training ride. The run I like to do when we’re up there on the “guys golf and casino” trip is through state forest land that is beautiful and peaceful. Sorbys have a cottage at Hagerman Lake so we would have had access to a nice fresh water open swim. Between a great training venue and a vacation with friends in a beautiful part of Michigan we were both looking forward to the time away.

As many of you already know our plans changed when Jean, at the Mountaineer Half Ironman last Sunday, “pulled a Jack” and dumped her bike on the second loop. The roads were very hilly and she was having a good race when she got in a bad position with a couple of trucks and a couple of other riders while going across some railroad tracks. There was a pothole she couldn’t avoid and down she went. Unlike Jack, she was able to duck her head but landed on her left shoulder and fractured her clavicle (collarbone). It didn’t break clear through but splintered (not correct medical terminology) on the top of the bone near the shoulder end. The splinter sticks up at an angle and the injury is quite painful but she’ll live.

For the time being she is unable to swim, bike or run. She is able to ride the bike trainer without using her left arm and will start this week to do what she can to maintain fitness. She’s already made arrangements with Jon Anderson (sore butt muscle…also not correct medical terminology) for both of them to do the elliptical trainer tomorrow. Both of them like/need to talk and are unable to work out alone so they will now be known to the Trilanders as “Team Cripple”. She plans to run in the pool or lake using an “Aquajogger” belt that keeps her vertical in the water. Jean was very good about talking me into taking plenty of time and not trying to come back too fast from my many bike wrecks, so we’ll see how she does directing her own recovery.

This week was pretty boring from a workout standpoint so not much to report. Bill, Diane, Paul, Brian and I rode to Saugatuck (51 miles) yesterday and Jean, Nancy, Marge and Brian’s family drove the cars over and met us for lunch and a “really swell time” at an art festival. I was given a choice of walking through the booths at the art festival or being poked in the eye with a sharp stick and I chose the stick, but I couldn’t find anyone willing to do it. The weatherman had talked about a chance of rain and 15 to 25 m.p.h. winds. Luckily there wasn’t much rain but the winds were brutal for the last 10 miles or so.

Today’s long run started out at 7 A.M. for Bill, Paul and me. Even that early the temperature was between 75 and 80 and the humidity was high. We ran 7 miles on the first loop, stopped at Bill’s house for refills on drinks (sports drinks…not gin and tonics) and then did 6 miles on the second loop. Since I must whine sometime in each e-mail, this is the point where I’ll say again that I’m just not a good hot, humid weather runner. At about 11 miles I started to get nauseous and could have stopped anytime to walk but I didn’t, the nausea went away within 5 minutes and I continued running the rest of the way. It took me at least 20 minutes and several glasses of Gatorade and water before I felt like eating.

It’s 10 weeks until Ironman Wisconsin so the real training starts now. Not that the training hasn’t been grueling so far, but in the Multi-Sports program the last nine weeks before the taper week are Ironman specific. The rides and runs get longer but not much more intense. The plan is to start out with a good triathlon base and spend the last little while working on endurance. The rides include a couple more six hour and one seven hour and the transition runs get a little longer too. The long runs go a little longer and the longest one (180 minutes) is divided into 140 minutes in the morning at heart rate 2 pace followed in the afternoon with an easy 40 minute run. You runners know how stiff you get after a long run even when you stretch so you can understand how that afternoon run hurts for the first few minutes.

Just (Why Do I Punish Myself Like This?) Jack

 Just a quick note to let you know that Jean had a bike wreck during her race at Morgantown. She’ll fill you all in on the details but she hit a pothole (sound familiar?) right after some railroad tracks and went over on her left shoulder. I just talked to her briefly after she got back to her room and suggested a quick visit to the ER. They told her she has a level 1 a/c joint separation (I think) and she chipped a small piece of bone off the top of her clavicle. She’ll get a better idea of recovery once she’s home and is hoping it will be a fairly quick rehab and won’t interfere with IM Wisconsin (11 weeks away). Bike is OK and she tried several times to get back on and finish but couldn’t get in the aerobars…too much pain.

She should be home tomorrow afternoon or evening.

Jack

 Last week I went on and on about my dismay in “aging up” at USAT sanctioned races. Yesterday was my first foray back into competition. I did Johan’s Trifest, an Olympic length triathlon (.93 mile swim, 24.8 mile bike, 6.2 mile run…or for you that conformed to the metric conversion in the 70s and 80s…1.5 k swim, 40 k bike, 10 k run). It was my first race since Ironman Wisconsin 2004 and it wasn’t pretty.

I made at least 4 trips from my car to the transition area to get things I forgot. Usually you take everything at once and everything is there. Not me. I took my bike pump to top off the air in my tires before the race. Everyone else takes their bike out of the car, pumps the tires, then wheels it over to the bike racks. I wheeled my bike over, then went back to the car to get the pump.

As far as the race went I didn’t have a good one. I thrashed around in the swim and had my worst elapsed time ever. Between not getting into a good rhythm and body position, I zig zagged up and down the course and turned it from a .93 mile swim to at least a 1.2 mile delayed drowning.

When I exited the swim I got to my bike and couldn’t get my wetsuit off my feet. The Xterra sleeveless just doesn’t come off like my Ironman Stealth did. I finally got it off and proceeded to put on my bike shoes. I had rolled up my socks to make them easier to slip on over wet feet. I put the right one on, had a mild brain attack and unrolled the left one before I put it on. What was I thinking?

I got on the bike and didn’t feel like I could get in a good pace. Maybe riding 83 miles of hills isn’t the best preparation for a race three days later. Anyway, half way up one of the hills I thought the chain was making a strange noise and may not have gone solidly onto the small ring in front. So I nudged the lever over and the chain popped off. I thought I was in the small ring and I wasn’t. I was cross chained in the big ring (53) and the Big Cog (25) on the back. I had to get off the bike, grab the chain with my right index finger and put it back on. I hope I didn’t pick my nose because my finger was black with chain oil. Then I had to start back up on the hill. I couldn’t get my cleats to seat in and weaved around the road trying to get them snapped in while blocking two riders who I had just passed.

By the time I got to the run, my race was over, but I felt comfortable and ran well for me considering the time off and the hot, humid day. A guy in my age group passed me at about 2 1/2 miles and stayed about 100 yards ahead. He would walk every little while, I would almost catch up with him, and he would start back up and get another 100 yards ahead. At 4 miles he walked through an aid station and we ran out shoulder to shoulder. We stayed together for a half mile, I ducked in front of him to run through a sprinkler, took a hit of Hammer Gel and, as Emeril LaGasse would say, I “kicked it up a notch”. I expected him to run after me, take me within a hundred yards, and that would be that. He couldn’t come and I never saw him again.

So back to the aging up issue. I ended up 4th in my age group out of 8. If I hadn’t aged up I would have been in the 55-59 age group and would have ended up 6th out of 9. So as it often happens, when you whine about something it can come back to bite you in the behind later. So I admit it. I’m happy to have aged up even if Jim Dyke is in my age group and, yes, he did win the 60-64 age group handily.

By the way. As I wheeled my bike back to the car I noticed the front tire was flat. It was only pumped to 115 lbs so I don’t think it expanded and blew from the heat. I’d like to say that it probably started to lose air out on the course, I probably rode in on a soft tire and that’s why I had a crappy bike time. Chances are it picked up something on the course, developed a slow leak and just went flat while it sat there for two hours.

Larry, Jean and I had a good ride over at Verona, Wisconsin this last Wednesday. We all made peace with the hills, are comfortable with the course and know what we have to work on in the next 12 weeks. I found as I thought that the 42-25 gear combination isn’t quite enough for the three major climbs. I got up them all OK, but it took a lot out of my legs and I slowed way down the second half of the second loop.

Other than traffic around Chicago and Jean wetting the bed (she says she went to take a drink in the middle of the night from her water bottle and the top came off…yeah, right) it was a good trip. We are all looking forward to the race…at least I am.

Better go. The Father’s Day presents are all piled up under the Father’s Day tree and I’m anxious to open them.

Just (Missing My Dad) Jack

 When we enter Triathlon races we compete with people our own age in age groups. The age groups are divided between men and women and go from 20-24, 25-29, 30-34, etc. Until this year the age group you were placed in was based on your age on the day of the race. I’m 59 and will be 60 in December. So for the past four years I’ve been in the Men’s 55-59 age group. The USA Triathlon group decided to conform with many other sports and place people in age groups based on their age as of December 31st of each year. Any races that are USAT sanctioned use the new age group criteria.

When I first started in Triathlon, there was a guy in my age group named Jim Dyke who always won. Now I’m sure he hasn’t won every race he’s ever entered, but he’s come in first in his age group in all the races we’ve both been in. Jim’s birthday is in the summer sometime and he’s slightly more than a year older than me. Every five years he would advance to the next age group in July or August (I think) and I wouldn’t advance until December of the following year. That would give me 15 or 16 months without Jim in my age group.

Before you think that would give me a better chance of winning my age group you don’t know me very well. I’m not overly competitive and I’m just an average athlete. Not slow…not fast..just half-fast as the old joke goes (if you don’t understand just say it fast and you’ll get it). So, for me, it means that instead of being in the middle of the pack, I’m one place better than the middle of the pack without Jim in the same age group. For me that’s a victory.

So last year Jim competed in the 55-59 age group for most of the Michigan triathlon season. This year he’s in the 60-64 age group. Since I’ll be 60 on December 1st (no large presents please … money would be fine) I’ll race this season also in the 60-64 age group. So instead of not having Jim in my age group for 15 months, it was only 3 months and, due to old age maladies, I didn’t race at all last year so I’m just out of luck.

The competitive members of our Triathlon Club would look at Jim as the enemy, set their sights on “the big gun”, and do their best to knock him off. The problem is (in addition to me not being competitive) that I’ve met Jim and consider him to be a “race friend”. One of those people you enjoy talking with and being around but you only see each other at races. He’s easy to talk to, he doesn’t brag, he’s humble and is just a genuine “nice guy”. So how can Jim be the enemy? OK. I get the argument that in four years there will be another year when Jim will move to the 65-69 age group and I’ll be in the 60-64 age group, but based on my race accidents on the bike I may not live that long. It just isn’t fair!

On a repetitive note…yesterday Larry, Paul and I did our bike ride together. Larry and Paul started at Larry’s house, met me on Lindsey Road, and we rode Larry’s best guess of the hilliest roads in Barry County that would match the terrain of Ironman Wisconsin. It was a 150 to 210 minute heart rate 2 to 3 ride for me and I was in heart rate 3 most of the time. It was great training, but I cut my portion of the ride down to 2 1/2 hours due to my annual “doing something dumb induced back spasm” on Thursday.

Larry and Paul told me to ride ahead and set my pace (they’re both better riders than I am) and they’d tag along. After 20 minutes of riding Paul rode up next to me and said “I’ve tried to ride behind you, but those bike shorts are really worn out and I just can’t look any more”. As I said last week, what are friends for? Then he proceeded to tell us about last week’s race when he got behind a young, well-built girl who was also wearing worn out bike shorts. He didn’t mind riding behind her for most of the race even though he could have ridden faster. OK. OK. The new shorts are on their way from Performance Bike.

Jean, Larry and I will be going to Verona, Wisconsin Tuesday, riding the 40 mile loop of the Ironman Wisconsin bike course twice Wednesday, and coming back on Thursday. Jean will have to stay with us on the first loop since she doesn’t know the course. If I had to guess, I would predict that once Jean knows where all the turns are she’ll make some feeble excuse about having to get back to the room to straighten out her suitcase and take off leaving Larry and I in the dust. Larry will follow close behind her and I’ll not see either of them for the last 39 miles. That’s OK. Remember, I’m just half-fast.

Just (Destined To Be The Sweep Bike) Jack

 Our Saturday long bike rides have always been a mixture, but this week it was boys and girls riding separately. Jon, Martin and (I think) Jim took off early (the plan was 6 AM). It’s not that they are the “fast riders” of the group (which they are) but they take off early because they have young families or work commitments or both, so they need to get back at a reasonable time.

Jean and Diane wanted to get out fairly early since they were both on call, but didn’t want to leave at 6, so they opted for 8 or 8:30. Bill, Larry and I didn’t want to get out while it was still cold, and we like to have coffee at State Grounds at 8, so we shot for between 9:30 and 10. So it was the boys, then the girls, then the boys. I’m using the terms loosely since I’ll turn 60 this year and it’s hard for anyone to call me a boy except my mother.

I made it 24.5 miles before I called out to Bill and Larry that I was stopping to adjust my bike seat. I started to squirm at 15 miles, and by 24 I was in agony. I dropped it an inch (back to the height it was before the professional bike seat fit) and shoved it back a centimeter. It was much more comfortable, but by then the damage had been done, and I was glad to get off the bike at 58.5 miles. I gave it three rides and it wasn’t improving, so I’ll go back to where it was and make changes more slowly.

After I adjusted the seat I asked Larry to ride along side me or slightly behind and tell me if my leg went to full extension on the downstroke. It felt shorter than before (duh!! It was an inch shorter!!) and I wanted to be sure it wasn’t too short. I didn’t want to look like Arte Johnson in “Laugh In” on the tricycle (you young kids don’t know what I’m talking about…look it up on Google).

I had mentioned earlier that my bike shorts were worn out and I needed new ones. Larry and Bill got behind me and, since the bike shorts had been washed so many times and the fabric had broken down, you could see through them to places no human eyes should ever have to look. I tried to ignore them but I heard comments like “How much caulk do you think it would take to fill that crack…chuckle, chuckle” or “At least his butt isn’t any wider than an axe handle”. What are friends for anyway? A few miles down the road we all broke the law together (public urination is still a crime) so I guess we fit the profile of “a gang”.

We did the run from Becky’s house today…a hilly 10 miles for some of us. It isn’t an easy run but it’s great training. Diane and I ran together for a time. As we came from Broadway onto Quimby Road, Diane stopped for water and I kept going. On our right was a swamp and I could hear something walking along next to us in the water behind the brush. I’m sure it was a deer, but it sounded like “Bigfoot”, so it was a little eerie. I asked Diane later and she said she didn’t hear anything.

After the run I was changing clothes in Becky’s bathroom. If you’ve never been to Becky’s house, the dogs are confined to a back room separated from the kitchen by a doorway with a large gate. The bathroom is off that same room, and a door with a glass window separates the dogs from being right in there with you. I don’t have pets, so I’m a little self-conscious standing naked in front of dogs toweling off and putting on dry clothes. So, you people with pets…do you ever get in the middle of a romantic episode with your spouse/friend/acquaintance/one-night-stand when you open your eyes and there stands the dog on the end of the bed looking at you? Doesn’t that break the mood?

While I was standing there with nothing on but a smile and my running shoes, one of the girls came back and reached through the gate to pet the dogs. All I could hear was “You are a big one aren’t you?” and it took me back to the Florida YMCA episode when the guy in the locker room told me I had “…a nice healthy p&%$er”. (If you started getting these e-mails after the YMCA story, let me know and I’ll send it to you, but be prepared, it’s downright smut!!) She said she was talking to the dogs because they are big (in stature, not …..) but I’ll always wonder.

Just (I’m Really Just Average) Jack

 First it was the moles…then the raccoons…now it’s the birds. I declared war on the moles two years ago and it’s become my Viet Nam. Two years of all out effort…grub killer spread on the lawn…mole traps when I find active runs…mole chaser instruments stuck in the ground (I think they’re really mole attractors)…and still I’m no closer to elimination than I was two years ago. I’ve been spending more and more time out at the lake and it’s a good thing I’ve been here. A pair of sparrows built a nest on top of one of the wicker blinds on the deck. I saw it Wednesday evening so I went out and took it down.

You all probably know I really do like animals, but there is a time and place, and a nest directly over the grill isn’t a good place. I know that a lot of birds, when they’re young and still in the nest, will relieve themselves in a contained bag (where they buy them I don’t know) and the mother will drop the bag out of the nest to keep predators away. I’m guessing the packages wouldn’t make a very good condiment for the hot dogs and burgers, so something had to be done.

So I reached up with a pair of gloves and grabbed the nest. I thought they had just finished making it when two small eggs came rolling out and smashed on the deck. The third egg had a hole where my glove brushed against it, so the brood was history. So am I a murderer? It’s like the argument about abortion. Some think that it isn’t a human being until born. Others think it is a human being when it’s conceived. So did I destroy little unhatched birds or were they just eggs? Another quandary to keep me awake at night.

Guilty or not, I felt sorry for the two birds who, when they came back, looked all over for their children. I watched them for about ten minutes leaving, then coming back looking as if they had missed something and their babies were still there somewhere. I just happened to look out at the pontoon boat, and a sparrow (cousin to the deck nesters) went in a small gap in the cover to the bimini top. A minute later the bird came out and it’s mate, who was waiting patiently on one of the poles propping up the boat cover, went in the same hole with a blade of dead grass.

This went on several times and I realized they were making a nest in that canvas cover. I didn’t like not being able to use the pontoon until they had laid eggs, hatched them, defecated out the hole onto the canvas boat cover, fed them all kinds of things I didn’t want on the boat, then to all fly away only to vacate the space long enough for another pair to move in and call it home. So I marched down, unbuttoned half the boat cover, unzipped the cover to the bimini top and scattered the weeds and dead grass all over the pontoon (inside and out), the canvas cover and the lake.

I stuffed an old t-shirt (from back in my Greenpeace days) into the hole so they couldn’t get in anymore, thinking that would stop them. Jean came out Thursday evening and I was telling her about both incidents. We looked out at the boat, and the sparrows had gone in one of the loose ends of the cover to the bimini top, walked through the inside of the “sleeve” to the center where the t-shirt was, pushed just enough of it out the hole to make a nice soft landing spot, and were back in the housing business.

Friday morning I went out and did the same as I had on Wednesday, except I stuffed half the shirt in the hole and left half of it out. When we take the pontoon out for a ride we look like Ma and Pa Kettle (most of you are too young to know who they were) with laundry hanging on the boat to dry, but hopefully the sparrows have given up.

Not so fast. I wrote the preceding paragraphs Saturday. On Sunday we had the Trilanders who had not gone to Traverse City (congratulations to the runners, by the way) for a run around the lake. After everyone left, Jean and I were sitting on the front deck trying to decide when to ride the bikes, when I saw a sparrow fly into one of the open ends of the cover to the bimini top, again!! I marched down with some twine, unzipped the cover and turned out the grass and feathers (and 2 eggs) and tied the ends tight so they couldn’t get back in. I’ve been looking for a nickname, so now maybe “killer” will stick.

Jean and I went for a bike seat fit in Grand Rapids Friday afternoon. It was like going with Jean to buy running shoes. She tries on every pair in the store, picks one out that’s just OK, knowing she will bring it back later. Jean took 90% of the time and I went through my entire fit in the remainder. Based on the measurements, they moved my seat an inch forward and an inch higher.

To you non-bikers, that doesn’t seem like much, but in seat fitting and bike riding, that’s a lot!! We did another ride from Hastings to the stop sign past Hopkins, then came back, this time with little wind. I started squirming on the seat at 20 miles…by 35 miles I was in dire straights and by 50 miles I was ready to get off and walk with 8.59 miles to go. My rear end is sore and it hurts just to sit in a soft easy chair. I’ll give it one more shot. If it isn’t any better, it’s going back to where it was.

Better go see if there are any more critters trying to take the cottage by storm.

Just (Shouldn’t Have Messed With My Seat) Jack

 I’m not sure whether it’s the training volume, the wind, or just my 59 year old body, but after today’s run, I’m feeling the stress. Yesterday’s ride was supposed to be a 2 to 3 hour heart rate 3 (aerobic, but almost to the point of going anaerobic) ride, but I ended up riding 3:35.

We went straight West from Hastings to Hopkins, rode the hills past Hopkins to the stone house, and came back for a total of 58.59 miles. The wind was, according to Channel 8 weather, to be from the West at anywhere from 10 to 20 mph. There were some areas where the road went through open fields and the wind seemed to be at the high end of the forecast. There’s something about riding into an unrelenting wind that takes the starch out of you, and it did that to me.

When I got back home, I had planned to do a 30 to 40 minute transition run, but had a message from the raccoon guy (Wildlife Wranglers LLC…not a guy dressed up in a raccoon costume) that he would be at the cottage to wrap everything up at 3:30. It was 3:10, so I threw on some clothes with no stretching, no transition run and no shower, kept the car windows open, and drove down to the lake. We are now 99% raccoon proof. We did what we could to keep the furry little creatures out so we’ll see how that goes. Although it was covered by insurance, it still cost me 1,000.00 out of pocket between the deductible and the future raccoon exclusion items. (b/t/w Hastings Mutual is an excellent insurance company to work with).

Today’s run was supposed to be a 90 to 120 minute heart rate 1 or 2 run, so I went 12 miles at 10 minute per mile pace for, you guessed it, 120 minutes. Everyone else in the group ran shorter since next week is the Bayshore Marathon and this week is a taper week. I ran with Brian for the first two miles, then ran alone all the rest. I kept my pace right where I wanted it, but the heart rate was difficult to keep in zones 1 and 2 with all the hills.

By the time I got back, it was about 46 degrees and the wind had to be blowing at least 20 mph from the Northwest. I was tired…I was cold…I was kicking myself for running 12 miles when 9 would have been just fine…I was, and still am, tuckered out.

Just in case the question comes up on Jeopardy as to the word origin of “tuckered out”, I looked it up on Google on the site http://www.word-detective.com/ . I expected it to be a story about a guy named Tucker who always complained about being tired, hence the slang word “tuckered”. Had I been born a hundred years ago, it could be “walkered” with all the whining I’ve done (I’m still cold!!!). Anyway it’s:

“Tucker” meaning “to tire, to weary” is an Americanism dating back to the early 19th century, based on the verb “to tuck,” which comes from an ancient Germanic root meaning “to pull” (also the source of our “to tug”). Although “tuck” meant “punish” when it appeared in Old English, by the 13th century it had taken on the sense of “to finish cloth” and later came to mean “to gather up in folds or pleats,” “to put away or hide” and the modern “to fold in the ends of material” sense we use in “tuck in a sheet.” One of the slang meanings “to tuck” acquired in the 18th century was “to consume food” (i.e., “tuck” it into one’s stomach), eventually giving us the Australian “tucker bag” as well as “tuck” and “tucker” as slang for “food.”

Midway though the 19th century, it became common to speak of a dog or horse whose flanks were drawn in from hunger or fatigue as being “tucked” or “tuckered,” likening the animal’s gaunt and haggard appearance to folds in fabric. So to be “tuckered out” today is to be profoundly and visibly exhausted.

Luckily I didn’t strip down in front of anyone today, but if I had the running group would have seen “my flanks drawn in by fatigue” and I really did have a “gaunt and haggered appearance”, so the word and the word origin fit.

It looks like the cold snap will give way to near normal temperatures this next week so Memorial Day weekend should be great. Good luck to all the running group doing the Bayshore Marathon, Half-Marathon or 10-K. You’ve all trained hard so you’ll do well. No matter what, have a good time!

Just (I’m Tired And I Want To Go To Bed) Jack

 No pictures. Nothing special. Just a quick note to tie up some loose ends.

I know I’m still being a weather weenie, but it’s too cold to bike outside. I ran 10.31 miles in the rain yesterday and, up until the 9th mile when my feet were soaked and the wet socks tugged on my syrup festival blister, I was not uncomfortable. But today, the high temperature is supposed to be 58 degrees and it has been misting off and on, so I rode the trainer inside. After 60 mind-numbing minutes, I got off (get those minds out of the gutter…I got off the bike) and hit the shower. I’ll do my Saturday (yesterday) long bike on Wednesday instead of today since I did my Sunday long run yesterday. Confused? Wednesday is supposed to be the best day of the week weather-wise and, since I don’t work, I can ride if I want!

Congratulations (it’s not congradulations so if you see that spelling on graduation cards, the sender needs to go back to 5th grade) to those who did the Fifth Third (still the Old Kent to me) River Bank Run yesterday in Grand Rapids. Some had good races, some just OK races and some visited every porta-john in the last six miles, but all had an experience they’ll never forget.

It was touching at Jon and Laura’s after race party to hear the stories and see the faces of the first timers. I know I’m the “if he can do it, anybody can” poster boy, but hearing the stories took me back to my first race (that was the one where I finished the swim just behind the guy that dragged a rubber raft with his crippled son inside) and I knew exactly how they felt.

The Just Jack Irish Red homebrew received a thumbs up from a few tasters at the shindig, so I’m ready to brew more. I’m trying to decide on a style to brew that’s different than I’ve already made. I’ll consult with son Matt, the Brewmaster, about recipes. I’ll need an assistant so anyone who wants to spend half a day watching water boil, speak up.

The boat gets delivered this coming Thursday afternoon so I’ll need help carrying the dock pieces from the garage before then. Any takers? I’m getting ready for the annual spring Run Around Crooked Lake at the cottage. My lawn mower blew up last year so I’ll be setting it out by the road with a “free” sign on it and replacing it with a new one. The lawn, again, has been chewed up by moles, so the war is on again. We’ll see how effective all the mole elimination products really are.

Better go. The laundry is done and I’m ready to start folding.

Just (Still Waiting For Spring) Jack